Just One of the Boys
by These Trick Questions
Summary: Have you ever wondered about TwoBit's kid sister? She was only mentioned once in the book, but this is her story.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Okay, so this is the first fanfic I've ever posted. I've always wondered about Two-Bit's sister, so I started writing this. : Hope you guys like it, and PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE review!! I need people to be critical of my work. _

Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders and never will and that makes me sad.

The front door slammed shut, and I awoke with a jerk. One of the ups of falling asleep on the couch in the living room is you always know when someone's home. Of course, when it's three in the morning, it's definately a down. For a few seconds, I wondered why I was sleeping on the couch in the first place.

"Why were you sleeping on the couch?" Two-Bit's voice echoed my thoughts just moments later.

Two-Bit's my older brother, by four years. He's eighteen and a half, and still a junior. It's not that he got ripped off with the smart gene in the family, because he's just as smart as I am, being a fourteen year old sophmore (I skipped fifth grade). He's not school smart, but street smart. I actually doubt he learns anything in school. He just goes because it's fun. Personally, I don't see how school's fun, but Two-Bit's got a different view on life than I do. Like I said, he's street smart and that's good when you're living on our side of town. The East Side. Yep, we're Greasers, through and through.

Even though he's my brother, Two-Bit and I couldn't be more different--looks and personality. Well, maybe not so much looks because everyone says we look a like, but I don't really see it. Two-Bit's got rusty colored hair, and long sideburns. Mine's a pale red, so that's similar, but still. He wears his gelled back, like most boys I hang out with, but I, being a girl, do not. Since he's an eighteen year old guy and I'm a fourteen year old girl, he's a lot bigger than me. Duh. But not fat big, I mean like big build big.

Keith is Two-Bit's real name. Yeah, my parents apparantly had a thing for "K's." My name is Kat, his is Keith. I don't think anyone ever calls him Keith, not even his teachers or Mom. So anyway, we call him Two-Bit because he never shuts up. Ever. Believe me, I live with him. Well, when he's home. A lot of times he's hanging out with the rest of the gang. Two-Bit's a jokester, and he keeps everyone smiling. Which is good, considering none of us has really good lives. Two-Bit also has a thing for shoplifting. One of his many talents. He aquired an amazing jet-handled switch blade after lurking for hours. And he won't even let me touch it! Ah well, I have my own blade. Anyway, I'm a bit more serious than Two-Bit, and, while I like to laugh, I've never really considered myself funny. Two-Bit's very lazy, and when I say lazy, I mean LAZY! He doesn't like to work, so I usually end up with his chores that Mom's too busy to do. That's another thing. Two-Bit always reminds me of Mom, except for the lazy thing. (Mom's far from lazy.) Meanwhile, Mom always says I act just like my father. I wouldn't know though. I can barely remember him.

"Why are you coming in at three in the morning?" I countered, rubbing the sleep from my eyes and blinking up at him.

"Just doin' what I do," he answered

"You mean partying and getting drunk?" I asked.

"Exactly," he said, flashing me a grin. "So why were you sleeping on the couch?"

"God, are you presistant," I told him, returning the smile. "If you must know, I was rather tired and didn't feel like walking to my room."

"Lazy," he teased.

"Look who's talking!" I snapped back.

Two-Bit grinned again. "Well, go back to sleep. I'm tired and I don't want you bothering me."

"Me? Bothering _you? _You woke me up and _I'm _bothering you?" I protested indignantly.

"Yeah, pretty much," he replied jokingly.

I stuck my tongue out at him, but stood and followed him down the hallway. At the first room, I veered off. "'Night!" I called as he went down to the room next to mine. "'Night," he replied, before I dropped into my bed and drifted off to sleep.

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_Not a huge fan of that chapter, but I swear it'll get better. I wasn't feeling great when I wrote that. Review!!!_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Urgh! I accidently deleted my previous a/n during my editing. -makes face- That was pretty stupid of me. Anyway, thanks for the reviews and enjoy!**

**Disclaimer:I don't own The Outsiders.**

BRING! BRING! BRING! I groaned as my alarm clock blared. Why could I never remember to turn it off on the weekends? I flailed my hand on my dresser, trying to find the clock without opening my eyes. I found it all right, but instead of hitting it off, I knocked it off the dresser. It hit the floor with a crash, but I didn't pay attention to it as I was still half asleep. I'd worry about it later when I woke up for good. I rolled over and fell back to sleep.

"Katelyn Louise Matthews, get out of your bed!" my mother screamed from wherever she was.

"I'm up!" I called back. I really was. I had actually been up for about ten minutes, just laying in my bed. "And please _don't_ call me that!"

I rolled out of bed, letting out a yelp of pain a moment as I stepped on my now broken clock. I sat back down on my bed, inspecting my foot. Nothing too serious. It was bleeding, though, and needed a band-aid.

I head to the bathroom, trying to keep my foot off the ground so Mom wouldn't get mad at me for the blood. As I slapped the band-aid on, I caught sight of the clock on the wall. Ten-thirty? Had I really slept that long. No wonder Mom had yelled at me.

I wandered into the kitchen and pulled an apple out of the fridge while Mom gave me her version of a good morning. "You are so lazy. Who the hell sleeps until ten-thirty?" She demanded.

"It's been a long week," I replied, taking a bite of the apple. "Two-Bit already leave?" I added, finding no sign of him.

"Yes, he's gone to the Curtis'," she answered, stirring something in a pot.

Darry, Sodapop, and Ponyboy Curtis were the Curtis brothers who lived a few blocks over. They had lost their parents a few months ago in a car accident. It was horrible really. Their parents were good people, nice and honorable. Plus, Mrs. Curtis was amazing at making me feel like I was worth something when my own mother was so careless with her words. I don't think Mom knows what she does to me, but when something goes wrong, it's always my fault. It's never Two-Bit's fault. It's always mine. Not to mention, Mom thinks I'm slightly odd because I wear jeans and hang out with guys playing football and the like instead of wearing skirts and gossiping with girls about boys and make-up or whatever the hell girls talk about.

After changing out of my gym shorts and tank-top and into jeans and an oversized T-shirt, I headed out to the Curtis'. The day was pretty and clear. It was windy, but that was normal in Oklahoma. Actually, today was only a little breezy. Aggrivated with the wind blowing my shoulder-length hair back, I pulled it back into a high ponytail. I breathed in the air, letting it soak into my lungs and let out a contented sigh. I may not have the best life in the world, but right now I was feeling pretty damn happy. The weather was good and it was the weekend.

Movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. I picked up my pace and headed towards the lot. If they had started without me...Turns out, they had. I watched as the football threw the air and into the hands of Johnny Cade. Johnny's small for his sixteen years. He's got dark hair and eyes and is very tan. Johnny's probably got the worst home-life of us all. His mom doesn't give a damn about him unless she's ticked off at something and then she's hollering her cold, black abyss of a heart out at him. And then their's his father. The man is a drunk, abusive bastard. I mean, who hits their kid with a two-by-four? Well, he does. Or did, as I've only heard of it happening once. That's the worst I've heard, though he's got countless bruises and it's obvioulsy a result of his father.

Upset that the gang had started the football game without me, I decided to jump in out of nowhere. Since Johnny was the one with the ball, he was my target as of the present moment. I ran at high speed across the street and collided with him. We both fell to the ground from the force of the impact. Surprise was etched on his face when he stood to look at his "attacker."

I stood as well and grinned at him. "Hola, Johnny!" I greeted.

He smiled back, still recovering from the shock of me coming out of nowhere. The rest of the gang was meandering over to us now.

"Where'd ya come from?" Seventeen year old Steve Randle demanded, his hair greased into complicated curls, like usual.

"Across the street," I replied brightly, pointing.

Steve shook his head. "You came out of no where."

"You're almost as fast as Ponyboy, even," Sodapop, Steve's best friend, piped up, referring to his kid brother. Soda's sixteen and probably the most understanding person I've ever met. Seriously. And I swear the guy could make you smile no matter what.

Ponyboy flushed a little at the praise. Ponyboy's my age, but a freshman, and he skipped a grade too. He's almost as quiet as Johnny and probably just as shy. The kid's smart though, there's no denying that. He's always got his nose in a book or something. And he's on the track team, so he's fast like Soda mentioned. Ponyboy looks like Soda too, only his hair is auburn-ish while Soda's is golden-blonde.

"Is Dally here?" I asked, looking for the cold, tough seventeen year old.

"Naw, I think he's at Buck's," Two-Bit answered.

I was a little upset. Dallas Winston always managed to capture my attention, mainly because he was just an interesting person. Not that I had a crush on him. No way. I was actually kind of scared of Dally. Why? Because Dally isn't just a greaser, he's a hood. At seventeen, he has been jailed more times then I have time to count and has spent three years in New York. He gets drunk (typical actually for almost anyone), lies (again typical), steals from passed out drunks, jumps little kids, and stuff like that. He hates the world pretty much, except for Johnny. There's just something about Johnny that could melt anyone's heart, and the proof is Dally. I guess it's probably because Johnny's like everyone's kid brother. I'm not sure why that is, but I have a feeling it as to do with how his parents treat him.

Anyway Buck Merrill is Dally's rodeo partner. Buck's quite a character, if you ask me. He tries to act like he's a cowboy, but he's a big fake. He raise a few Thoroughbreds (poor horses) and fixes races for money. I don't much care for Buck, and I don't think Dally does either. Buck's just an easy guy to manipulate. If Dally was at Buck's, that probably meant there had been a party last night and he was hungover. Ah, the joys of alcohol. I honestly don't understand why anyone would drink if the hangover is as miserable as it sounds.

"So are we gonna play or what?" Two-Bit asked after a few moments of silence.

"I'm on Darry's team," I informed everyone.

Darry is twenty years old and the legal gaurdian of Soda and Ponyboy. He's huge and pretty much an exact replica of his father. Well, no, he's not a clone, considering he doesn't act like his father. That's Soda. Darry is muscular with short dark brown hair. If you know Darry, then you'll know why I wanted to be on his team. In high school, Darry was on the football team. He's got a natural talent for it.

No one denied me my want to be on Darry's team, considering the fact that I was simply awful at football. Ponyboy and Johnny were both on Darry's team too, because they were the smallest. The other team consisted of the leftovers--Steve, Soda, and Two-Bit. If Dally were here, he'd be on their team. The game only lasted about an hour and we lost. I didn't mind though, because I was used to losing at football. No matter how much I played it, I never got any better. I was just cursed, but it was something I had learned to live with.

The game stopped because Steve and Soda had to work. They both have jobs at the DX gas station, Soda full-time and Steve part-time. That gas station gets a whole bunch of customers, partly because Steve is a genius with car and partly because Soda's such a "heartthrob" and the girls flock around him. I don't understand why girls would give up their Saturday to degrate themselves and flirt with a guy who already has a girlfriend. Or any guy for that matter, but that's just me.

Since everyone was dispersing, I decided to head over to my friend, Mike's house. Mike's my friend from school, and he's a greaser, like the rest of us. He's got a soft spot for animals (and girls) and yesterday he had informed me that he found a litter of kittens. I was eager to see them, so I skipped off to his house.

**A/N: Like above, I deleted this one too! I forgot what I said, but it was probably something about me hating this chapter and me promising they would get better!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Well, this was an inspiring Monday. :) Hm, being stuck in school must have a positive effect on creativity. Damn uniforms. Ah well, here's chapter three! Hope y'all like! Review please!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders, That Was Then, This Is Now (Mike's the kid in the hospital that Mark and Bryon visit) or A Midsummer Night's Dream. (Wow, what a list!) S.E. Hinton owns the first two, while Shakespeare owns the others, but I think you all knew that. **

Have you ever seen a fourteen year old Greaser girl in jeans and a T-shirt skipping merrily down the streets? Yeah, I haven't either. I figured that was why people were giving me funny looks though. I can't honestly say I cared though. I was in a euphoric mood, partly because of the weather, partly because of the football game, and partly because I was off to see some adorable baby cats.

As I turned onto a deserted street away from the hustling, bustling I noticed a fancy car following me. Ha, those Socs thought they could jump me? Fat chance. Mike's house was right here in front of me. I walked up the drive, then remembered I didn't know if his dad was home or not. It was just an annoying setback though. I circled around to the backyard, leaving the Mustang behind. Walking over to the tree right outside his bedroom, I grabbed onto a branch and hauled myself up. I didn't have to climb high, considering the fact that it's a one story house. Actually, I didn't have to climb at all, I just liked to. It was fun and it made me seem tall.

Mike was in his room, a textbook opened and a pencil hovered over a blank paper. I rapped on the window pane and he jumped. He turned to the window suspiciously but then grinned when he saw it was me. He opened the window and I climbed in.

"What are you doing here?" he asked good-naturedly.

"What? No 'Hey, Kat, how ya doin'?" I demanded, feigning insult.

"Hey, Kat, how ya doin'?" he responded. "So what are you doing here?"

"I'm fine, thank you," I said cordially, "And you?"

Mike let out a long sigh. "I'm fine," he answered irritably. "I'd be better though if you just answered my question."

I smiled at him. "Kitties," I replied simply.

"Oh, them!" Mike's face brightened. "C'mon, I'll show you!"

"Your old man home?" I asked.

"Naw, he's out at his 'job,'" Mike told me, putting air quotes around the word 'job.' "Actually, he's probably off spending a welfare check on booze."

"Sorry," I said sympathetically, as we walked back out to the street. The Socs from earlier were gone. "At least you know where he is."

I fell silent and he said nothing more of the matter, so the subject of fathers was dropped. Instead, we picked up the always lively topic of school and teachers. For a while we debated whether Geography had a point at all and then discussed how my Biology teacher had it in for me. After about twenty minutes, Mike stopped suddenly. If I had been walking behind him, I would've run into him, but as it was, I we had been strolling side by side.

We were in an alley, one of those dead-ends you always have main characters running into in books or movies. It had that dank smell about it, water dripping from the walls. The sun seemed to dim in the alley, for whatever reason. Maybe that was just me exciting my imagination. It was a bright day, wasn't it? There was no reason the sun shouldn't shine in the alley. Lining the edge of the alley were several dumpsters overflowing with trash and a stench. Urgh, it was disgusting.

"C'mon," Mike said. "They're in the cardboard box."

"Which one?" I asked, squinting for a sign of the kittens.

"The one that's not smashed shut," Mike told me, talking as if I was toddler who could understand that no matter how many times you jumped off a brick wall you couldn't fly because gravity would just pull you back down.

"Shut up," I snapped, but followed him to the cardboard box pressed at the far end of the alley.

"Hey, guys," he said gently, crouching down and peering into the box. "It's just me. I brought a friend today."

I kneeled beside him, cocked my head in order to view the residents of the cardboard box better. There was a large, light gray tabby cat with darker gray stripes curled around three tiny, mewling kittens. On was a multi-colored calico. His coat was white with splotches of brown and a creamy yellow. Another one was pure white, her fur darkened slightly by the dirt of the air. When the first nipped at her tail, she let out an indignant "mrrow" and swiped a paw at his head. The third kitten stared at them as if she was above their playfulness. Her soot-gray fur fluffed as she sat up and licked a paw daintily.

I laughed. "God, they're adorable!" I exclaimed. "D'ya have names for them yet?"

"Yeah, all but one. I was saving that one for you," Mike replied, pointing the the calico. "The mama is Elodie, the white one is Tobi, short for Tobiana, and the gray one is Calista, or Cali occasionally." He grinned proudly. "What d'ya think?"

"You have a talent with fitting personalities to their names," I answered. It was true. Those names fit the cats to a T. Not that I ever understood that expression, but you get my point.

"So whatcha gonna name yours?" Mike inquired, glancing at me quizzically.

I gazed at the kitten, scrutinizing him. He was mischevous, I determined, constantly trying to cause trouble. He batted at his mother's tail and went out of his way to irritate his sisters. Calista just gave him a cold glare with bright green eyes while Tobi often threw a paw at him. I bit my lip, trying to decide on a good name. And then it hit me. I sat back on my knees and grinned proudly. "Puck."

"That little fairy thing from the Shakespeare play thing we're reading?" Mike questioned.

I nodded in confirmation. "Yep!"

A smile toyed at Mike's lips. "Perfect," he praised.

"I know," I sighed in mock arrogance.

For a while, we played with the kittens, the mother watching us carefully to make sure no harm came to her offspring. When we had spent enough time with the kittens, we stood to leave. Mike tossed the mother a bit of bread and some bacon he had taken from his fridge with a promise of returning soon. I chuckled to myself. That was one thing I loved about Mike--he talked to animals like they were humans, his equals. I did that too, but, as Mike often pointed out to me, I "baby-talked" to them a lot, but what can I say?

"Let's go to my place," I suggested as we wandered down the cracked sidewalk.

Mike shrugged in agreement. "Okay."

He glanced over his shoulder suddenly. "There's a few guys following us," he hissed in my ear without breaking stride.

"How many?" I whispered back, feeling excitement rush through my veins.

"Three, I think," Mike answered with another quick peek.

"If they try anything, we can take them," I said confidently.

Mike just shook his head. "I hope so," he muttered.

"I know so," I conceded, raising my eyebrows at him.

"Well, we'll know soon enough," Mike said grimly. "Here they come."

**A/N: Okay, so I actually kind of like this chapter. :) Told ya it would get better! Anyway, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE review and do NOT spare my feelings! Be as critical as possible, please!**


	4. Chapter 4

** _A/N: Okay, here's Chapter Four. Um, there's some cursing in it, so the T rating comes into play here. :/ I find this a sad chapter, at least at the end. Um anyway, hope you guys enjoy!_**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders or That Was Then, This Is Now.**

"Hey, Greasers," one guy called as he sped up to block our path.

Mike gave him a cold glare. "What d'ya want?" he demanded irritably.

"Now, Mike," I reprimanded in a false, motherly voice, "play nice."

"Yeah, Grease," some guy from behind agreed. "Listen to your whore of a girlfriend."

I stiffened at the insult. Abandoning all self control, I whirled around to confront him. "Who ya callin' whore, pal?" I snapped.

"Now, Kat," Mike mimicked me, "play nice."

I ignored him and glared at the guy. "Huh?" I asked. "That wasn't one of those rhetorical questions. I'm expectin' an answer, so answer."

The guy shot his friend an uncertain glance. I guess he hadn't been expecting this. I let my eyes scan the road around us. "Where's your fancy, shmancy car?" I commented. "Don't most Socs who decide to jump us po' folk have a fancy, shmancy car?"

The third guy who had yet to say anything finally talked. "It's at a gas station," he growled angrily. I'm not sure why he was angry about that fact, but apparently he was.

"Which one?" I asked pleasantly.

All three seemed surprised by my sudden mood change, but that was just me. My anger usually passes by in a matter of minutes, as well as depression. Not always, but usually. I wasn't sure why the guys hadn't started in on us yet. Were they here to jump us or not? And if they were, I wished they would just get it over with. I was itchin' for a fight and these three guys didn't look like they would be too hard to handle, but they were just standing there, gazing at us warily. Actually, more at Mike. I glanced over at him. He was handling a switchblade nonchalantly in his hands and with that tiny tidbit, I assumed the Socs were without weapons.

"You got another one of those?" I asked Mike.

He just shook his head. "Ah well," I said with a shrug and bent over to pick up a stick off the ground. "I guess this'll work."

Turning back to the guys, I smiled and asked cordially, "Well, which gas station?"

"The DX," he mumbled.

"Oh," I replied. "Funny. I know some guys there. Ya know, close personal friends of me and my older brother and stuff like that."

There was a small silence before I sighed and said, "So, were you guys planning on jumping us? 'Cause you ain't doing too good of a job of it."

When no one answered me I shrugged again. "Guess we'll just be on our way, then, huh? Nice seein' y'all." With that, I turned, shouldered past that one guy, and sauntered off. No one but Mike followed.

"That was odd," he commented. "Usually they at least throw a punch before letting us go."

"Wimps," I agreed as he extracted a cigarette from a pack and lit up.

I watched him for a few seconds before saying, "If you end up in a hospital somewhere dying of lung cancer, don't come cryin' to me."

"Don't haffta worry 'bout that," he replied with a laugh. "I ain't gonna give myself cancer."

"So you think," I huffed at him while he laughed.

Later that night, Mike and I sat at the kitchen table. We had spent the afternoon lazing around and goofing off, and now I was trying to beat him in arm wrestling and prove that a girl could be just as good as a guy. I was failing miserably. The kitchen door slammed shut only a few seconds after Mike smashed my hand onto the table with a triumphant grin.

"I won!" he cheered, leaping out of his chair.

"Fuck you," I mumbled bitterly. All I wanted was to win, just once. Was it too hard to let me?

"Kaitlyn Louise, watch your mouth," my mother snapped, making me jump. Where the hell had she come from?

"Er, I gotta go," Mike said, slipping out of the kitchen. I didn't blame him. He could always sense one of my spouts of anger, sometimes even before I could.

I ignored him and turned to face my mother. "Two-Bit curses all the time and you don't care, " I pointed out, "so why can't I?"

"That's different," she replied absently, rummaging around the kitchen.

"How?" I demanded angrily. "How the hell is it different?"

"Kaitlyn, you're mouth," she said without turning away from the pantry.

"It's Kat!" I snarled. "And if you knew a damn thing about me, you'd know that! And you still haven't told me how it's different when Two-Bit curses and when I curse."

Finally, she gave me the courtesy of looking at me. The look though was cold and her eyes were hard. A look I knew Two-Bit had never received.

"Because it's natural for Two-Bit to want to curse. He is, after all, an eighteen year old boy. You, on the other hand, are a fourteen year old girl. It's not ladylike to curse," she retorted hotly. "And you will not speak to me like that, either!"

"What a bunch of crap!" I snapped. "So I can't curse because I'm a girl and Two-Bit can get away with it because he's a guy? What kind of sexist are you?"

"Kaitlyn Louise Matthews!" Mom was enraged now. She usually stopped at my middle name, so you could always tell when she was genuinely pissed off at me. "I am your mother and you _will _show me respect!"

"Respect's not a gift, mother," I informed her hotly, quoting a poster in one of my classroom. "You have to earn it."

"As your mother I have a right to it."

I laughed hollowly. She really believed that.

For some reason, this really made her mad. Her face turned dark red, a red I didn't know was possible for a face to turn, and her eyes flashed dangerously. "I swear, you are exactly like your father! Exactly like him! And soon you'll end up like him too. You're a nasty rebel, an ugly slut, and you'll never amount to anything! I don't know why I try anymore!"

That hurt worse then getting hit. And it did hurt. But as quickly as the hurt and come, it was replaced by anger. I leaped to my feet, causing the chair I had been seated in to skid across the room. "That's it, isn't it?" I screamed, my voice shaking. "I've never been the daughter you wanted! Two-Bit's perfect, he can do no wrong, but me? You're always puttin' me down, telling me I'm not good enough, saying I'm exactly like my father. That obviously ain't a compliment! Of course, I wouldn't know! I can't friggin' remeber him! I've never been the daughter you wanted, and news flash! I never will be! I am who I am, and until you can just accept that, I'm leavin'!" I whirled around, hate, anger, and energy quivering throughout my body and started for the door.

"Hold on a second, young lady!" the woman who called herself my mother called after me, but I ignored her and stormed out of the house, slamming the front door behind me.

The air hit my face--warm and windy. I wish it had been cold. Cold air always settles me down, helps me think clearly, and right now, my mind was twisting and turning, my thoughts all jumbled together. Was I really going to stay away from my house forever? At the moment, I was inclined to say yes, but what about when my anger had passed? What then? Would mom even let me come back? I didn't know, and I tried not to care. My anger was still burning and it propelled me to wander away from the house. The sun was setting, causing the sky to turn pink and orange and the air to turn a little cooler. I just walked, letting my anger slowly run itself out. Once I had calmed down, I decided I'd crash at the Curtis' for the night. I had told my mom I wasn't going home, and I was staying true to my word. Plus, while my rage had subsided, I was still upset and mad at that woman.

"Hey!" I hollered as the door slammed shut behind me. No one answered me, but they were all there, except Johnny and Darry, grave-faced and silent. "What's up?" I asked, stepping towards them to get a closer look.

Dally's face was hard and cold, like usual, but something was different. He seemed stiff to me, tense and angry. Definitely angry. He looked like he could kill someone right then. But there was something else lurking behind his ice blue eyes. I stared at him, trying to decide what it was, but he blinked and it was gone. Two-Bit was looking serious, for once. Somber and serious. He looked like he had just been through hell twice. I didn't have to look at the other guys to know something was wrong, but I did. Steve looked like he'd like to clobber something real good. The hate and anger burning in his eyes were unmistakable. My eyes shifted to Soda who looked miserable, his arm hooked around his brother, who was probably the only one looking scared. Slowly, with dread licking at my stomach, I turned to the couch. Lying there, his eyes shut, his face bloody and bruised, Johnny. There was dirt on his face, mixing with the blood. His white T-shirt was stained red. I drew in a deep breath, closing my eyes. I told myself that when I opened them, the scene before me would be gone. Johnny wouldn't be beaten like he was. It'd all go away. Of course, my hope was a delirious fantasy. I opened my eyes again and nothing had changed.

Darry entered the room at this point, a damp cloth in his hands. Silently, he handed it to Soda, who gentled dabbed to blood off Johnny's face. I felt sick watching, but I couldn't tear my eyes away. It was quiet for a long time, quieter than I had ever heard it before when the gang was all together. It was me who broke the silence. "What happened?" I rasped. The only thing I could think of was Johnny's father taking something a little too far. "Was it...?" I trailed off, not able to finish the question.

Dally directed a cold glare my way. I flinched, wondering if the look was intended for me, or if it was just because of this moment. "Socs," he replied bitterly. "Those Goddamn fuckin' Socs! I'll kill 'em! I'll kill every last one of 'em!" He slammed a fist into the wall suddenly and eyed the lamp like he'd like to hurl it across the room.

No one told him to calm down. No one told him everything would all right. No one wanted to. Dally would hit the person who said anything of the sort. Besides, none of us knew if it really _would _be all right.

I swallowed hard. I was shaking and knew it, but I didn't care. This was shaping up to be some day. Slowly, as if in a daze, I sat down, cross-legged, on the floor.

"We were comin' home from work," Steve said, his voice monotonous. "Me and Soda and Ponyboy. Then I noticed his jacket. I thought he just forgot it, so I picked up. But I saw the blood. And then heard the moan. We all took off. Soda got there first." He paused, gulped, and then continued. "Soda just held him. He started to curse, but then began to sob."

"Oh God," I breathed. Johnny never cried. Ever. Well, it took a whole lot to make him at any rate.

Steve went on like he hadn't heard me. "He managed to tell us what happened. He'd been lookin' for the football when a blue Mustang had pulled up. A whole bunch of guys in it. And they had him down. One guy was wearing some rings. That's how his face got cut up so badly." Steve finished, looking away.

It was silent. Silent as death. No one had anything to say. I was trying to absorb the information, trying not to think of the gory facts that kept slipping into my mind. I could feel tears pricking at my eyes, but I blinked them away. I wasn't going to cry. I wasn't going to cry.

The shrill ring of the phone made me jump. Darry stared at it for a second before answering. "Hello?" he said. "Yeah, sure, hold on." He turned to Two-Bit, offering him the phone. "She wants you."

"Hey," Two-Bit greeted Mom on the other end, trying his best to sound normal and up-beat, but failing miserably. "Yeah, I'm fine." He paused to listen. "Yeah, she's fine. She's right here." Pause. "Okay." He turned to me. "Mom wants to talk to ya," he informed me.

I got up, took the phone, and slammed it into the received. Before anyone could ask, I burst into tears, and slid down the wall, hugging my knees.

**A/N: Well, there it is. The Socs from earlier will be more important later, just so you know, I have plans for them! Um, review, review, review!! Thankies!**

**Reviewers: **

**AivieEnchanted-- Haha, I baby talk too:)**

**Cherry9222-- Hey, thanks! I didn't realize I had been puttin' the 'g' on the end of every word! What I was typing was habit and not what I was thinking. :) See, reviews help!**

**BellaEliza-- I hope this is long enough for you. :)**

**Reviews greatly appricated, 'specially critical ones!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry this update took soooo long, but it was exam week and my mom had to work on the computer, so I couldn't get it. :) I hope you guys like this chapter! Oh! And all those colons before by themselves were supposed to be smiley faces...but they didn't show up for whatever reason. Well, anywho, off we go!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Outsiders.**

A small moan woke me up late in the night. It was so late, it was early. If that made any sense. I shifted to a sitting position, rubbing my eyes. I blinked, letting them adjust to the light.

"Johnny?" I whispered, crawling to the couch. "You okay?"

Another little moan. Then, "Water?" His voice was a hoarse whisper.

"'Course," I replied. "Just hold on a sec."

I stood up and stumbled into the kitchen, trying to forget my complete and total break-down the night before. Two-Bit had stared at me like I was an alien, looking confused and out of place. And worried. The last time he'd seen me cry, I had been about five and he had dropped my ice-cream cone that I had asked him to hold while I attempted to tie my shoe. I was mad and upset, just like I was now, only now that I was older, I had more important things to be mad and upset about.

"Hey, Kat," he had said awkwardly, sitting down beside me. "Don't cry, kid. Please?"

I tried, I really did, but I couldn't help myself. The tears wouldn't stop flowing, and it made me angrier that I couldn't gain control of myself.

"Hey, c'mon, I'll take ya home, 'kay?" Two-Bit pleaded. "Let's go. Everything's goin' to be okay. Let's just go home." He stood and offered me his hand. I ignored it, completely.

"I ain't goin' back!" I screamed. "I ain't eva goin' back there, and you can't make me! And how the hell d'ya know everything's gonna be okay? 'Cause it ain't! It ain't!"

Two-Bit just stared at my as I sobbed uncontrollably. I knew I was acting like a complete baby, but for once, my heavy heart was feeling better.

"What happened?" Two-Bit asked softly, laying a hand on my shoulder.

"Get off me," I snapped, jerking away from him.

The look on Two-Bit's face made me cry harder. I was mad at myself now as well. He didn't deserve that.

After that, everyone left me alone to bawl my heart out. They just figured I wanted to be left alone, but I really didn't. Deep down, I wanted someone to hug me and wait until my tears had subsided. I wanted them to ignore my insults, knowing I didn't mean them. But on the surface? Well, that was completely different. Eventually, though, the tears had quit coming. Drained, emotionally and physically, I looked around. The room was dark. Johnny was still on the couch. The brothers, Steve, and Two-Bit had disappeared while Dally was sprawled in an armchair. I had flopped onto the floor and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

I pulled a glass out of the cabinet and filled it with water from the sink. Wearily, I headed back to the living room where I was faced with a dilemma.

"Can you sit up?" I asked Johnny, tilting my head in thought.

"Think so," he muttered. And he did. Slowly, true, and painfully, but he managed it. I sat down next to him and offered him the water. He smiled his thanks at me, then winced a little. He sipped his water and it hurt me to see him in so much pain. I sighed.

"Are you okay?" I asked, concerned.

He just nodded. I knew he was lying, and that upset me a little, but I guess I could understand. I mean, if I was beaten half to death, and I had people worried sick about me, I'd probably say I was okay too, just so they wouldn't have to worry.

I leaned back against the couch and sighed again. I let my eyes scan the familiar room. For some reason, tonight it looked different, like an old friend you had lost contact with and was now just an acquaintance. Sighing again, I let my eyes find Dally. He was sleeping deeply, his chest rising and falling in time with his even breathing. He looked relaxed, like his worries hadn't followed him into the dream world. Then again, they probably hadn't. Staring at Dally while he slept, it was hard to imagine he was the same guy who just earlier had slammed his fist into the wall claiming he was going to commit murder. The same guy who had lived in New York for three years doing all kinds of unthinkable things. The same guy who'd been arrested at ten and jailed countless times. Then I got to thinking: Was he the same guy when he was sleeping?

"He looks different when he sleeps," I commented to Johnny.

Johnny took to scrutinizing the sleeping Dally too, a thoughtful expression plastered on his face. Finally, he nodded in a agreement. After that, we just sat in silence.

I woke up to sunshine streaming through the windows. I had fallen asleep again against the arm of the couch, curled up in the one seat of the couch. Groggily, I sat up, trying to disturb Johnny who had slept the other way. I felt guilty, taking part of the couch from him, and even though I knew he wouldn't mind, I still felt like I had stolen it from him. My neck was stiff from the angle I had had it. I stood, glancing around my surroundings. Dally was still snoring in the armchair, but no one else was present. Neither of them moved except when they breathed.

I stood up, revolving my neck around. It cracked and immediately felt better. I wandered into the kitchen and, for want of something better to do, plopped down into the chair. My eye caught the clock. Six in the morning. I sighed, and dropped my head to the table. I wasn't tired, but nothing was going on. That's when I realized I that, for once, I had Me Time. The only time I had that was when I was laying awake in bed at night, just before falling asleep. And that wasn't long, due to the fact that I was usually asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. I smiled a little. Me Time.

As I became more awake, my head whirled with thoughts, turning over yesterday's events. My fight with Mom, Johnny getting jumped, and the kittens. Oh God, I had almost forgotten about the kittens. They had probably been the only good thing that happened yesterday. I pictured they're faces, one mischievous, one aggravated, the other superior and felt my lips tugging into a smile. But then screaming intruded those pleasant thoughts. My mom's face, darkened with rage, swam into my vision, causing that small smile to slip away. Even though my mother and I got into fights all the time, it didn't make it any easier. Besides, this was probably the first time I had ever said I was _never _going home again. Sure, I had threatened, sure I had stormed out, but never once had I said that I was gone for good. I sighed. I had been mad and I didn't mean what I had said. Of course, I was going back. I knew that, but did Mom? Would she let me? And how long until I just stormed off again? How many more times until we got into so many arguments that I would be gone for good? Could I handle leaving Tulsa, all my friends, and the gang. The gang who were like six extra brothers, the boys I had grown up with. I sighed again.

Just then, the door swung open and I jumped. I really had to start paying attention more.

"'Mornin'," Darry greeted me, looking a little surprised. I didn't usually show up in their kitchen at six-thirty in the morning.

"'Mornin'," I returned, trying to smile.

I sat in silence as Darry moved around the kitchen, making coffee, eggs, and finding a chocolate cake. By seven, Ponyboy, Steve, Soda, and Dally had joined us. I didn't know any of them got up that early, but hell, I never woke up at six unless it was a school day. It was probably yesterday's events that had woken them up so early. I don't know how he did it, but Darry managed to get food to each and every one of them as well as to himself and to me. I stared at the eggs on my plate, moving them around with my fork. I didn't feel like eating, even if I hadn't had anything since the cookies Mike and I had eaten the day before. Finally, I stood and carried the plate to the sink.

"You didn't eat anything," Steve pointed out.

"No shit," I replied rather rudely. Steve didn't care though. He simply shrugged and shoved some chocolate cake into his mouth. After a few minutes, Steve glanced up at the clock. He nudged Soda and said, "C'mon, we're gonna be late."

Soda stood, draining the rest of his chocolate milk. He grabbed his shoes, called out, "See y'all," and the two left simultaneously. Darry didn't have work that day, so he stayed behind. Ponyboy stood up. "I'm goin' now," he declared quietly.

Darry looked at him. "I don't want you walkin' alone," he said, looking worried.

"Where ya goin'?" I asked curiously.

"Church," he replied, his cheeks flushing a little. Oh yeah, I had forgotten he and Johnny went every week. Well, Johnny obviously wasn't going today. I think he was still sleeping.

"I'll go!" I offered brightly, standing. I had to do something, and I was curious about church. I mean, I had never been, and it could be interesting. Pony looked imploringly at Darry who sighed and said, "Go."

"I have to stop at my house first," I informed Pony. I wanted to change and I knew Mom would be sleeping. She had been working until about four into the morning and would be resting up for her late shift tonight. I would just slip in, change, and come right out. "I won't take long!"

Ponyboy just nodded. We walked to my house in silence. "I'll be right back," I promised. I slipped in and darted to my room. I flung off my dirty jeans and pulled on my only semi-nice pair. They were tight, dark blue, and not ripped. I dug in my drawer for that shirt Mom had gotten me for Christmas that I thought I'd never wear. It was a white button down with a collar. Hm, seemed right for church. I threw it on and then pulled out my messed up hair, running a brush through it quickly before quickly twisting it into two braids. I darted quietly out of the house to the waiting Ponyboy.

"Only five minutes!" I cheered as we started on again.

When you walk with Ponyboy, it's usually pretty quiet. He doesn't talk much, and this morning I really had nothing to say, so there was no conversation. Quiet. Everything was quiet. It was too quiet. I began to hum a song that I'd heard on the radio. Shortly after that, Pony joined me.

The church wasn't a giant building, but it was definitely pretty. It had stained-glass windows, a cross mounted on top of the roof, and giant doors. I stopped, staring at it wide-eyed. It was like a Soc house, only it was a church. Ponyboy stopped when he realized I was no longer with him and glanced back quizzically. "Kat?" he called.

I jerked out of my trance. "I'm commin'!" I replied, trotting to catch up with him. We sat in the back during the service because we weren't dressed too well. The mass itself was rather boring, so I took to watching the people who were attending. Most of them were Socs, all dressed up and looking serious. One particular woman caught my eye. She was a pretty, petite and blonde. She was wearing a fancy red dress, falling to her knees. It was one of those swishy, flowing kinds. Definitely expensive. Cradled in her arms was a sleeping infant, blankets encircling her tiny body. I smiled to myself. That baby was adorable. I began fantasizing about the baby's life. She would grow up to be blond and pretty, like her mother. Her childhood would be one of luxury--she _was _a Soc after all. All of the sudden, the woman turned and gave me a cold glare. Immediately my imagination turned the baby into a spoiled little brat who had everything she could ever ask for and more. Bitterly, I turned to the boring priest guy on the alter and tried to focus as he droned on about how we should love our enemies.

"How?" I muttered under my breath, glancing at the woman in the red dress. "How the hell are we supposed to love people when they act like we're lower then them, like we're dirt or somethin'. How are we supposed to love the people who hurt us, beat us up, demoralize us?"

Ponyboy didn't hear me. He was focused on the priest, looking interested. I rolled my eyes. This was one long hour. Feeling restless, I began to organize the church books in the little box thing on the back of the pew in front of us. I flipped all the books so their spines were sticking in the air. Then I put all the purple song books together and the indigo books with bible passages together as well. I pushed the purple books to the left and the indigo books to the right. Once that was done, I slowly realized everyone was on their knees. Quickly I dropped to my own on the kneeler next to Pony. "Why are we kneeling?" I hissed.

Pony shook his head, pressing finger against his lips. I scowled, and let my mind wander. My eyes drifted over the congregation again and landed on the person kneeling next to the Miss Red Dress. His blonde hair was short, but messed up. He was wearing khaki shorts and a dark blue polo. He looked familiar, but I couldn't place where I'd seen him before. He looked just as bored as I was. Our eyes met and it hit me where I'd seen him before.

**A/N: Okay, that was my pathetic attempt at a cliff-hanger. -grins sheepishly- Hope y'all liked! Review please! My next update'll probably be slower because I'm planning on going back and fixing past mistakes! All your reviews are appreciated, I'm just too lazy to address them, but thanks guys! Well, bye for now!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry it took so long! Been busy! Don't have much time now! Enjoy and review!!!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own anything!**

The Soc from yesterday stared back at me, his face was scrunched up, as if he was trying to remember something. Probably where he'd seen me before. I raised my eyebrows at him, scowled, and shifted my gaze. I could still feel him staring at me, though.

My wandering eyes soon sought out a family, a son, a daughter, a mom, a dad. They were a blonde family, except for the mother who had dark brown curls. The girl was probably about my age with blonde waves falling to her shoulders. She wore a green dress that fell to her knees and the straps hung on her shoulders. The boy was older than her, maybe about seventeen. His blonde hair was cut short, typical Soc haircut, and he was wearing a green madras shirt over khakis.

The girl leaned into her dad, resting her head on his shoulder. He, in turn, wrapped his arm around his daughter, massaging her shoulder. I felt a sudden burst of fierce jelousy. Why did this girl get a father who was there for her, who loved her, and why didn't I? I found myself wanting to _be _her. I wanted to be that girl who had a dad that was there for her, a dad that would answer her questions, protect her, be overly-protective, actually. I always hated it at school when I would hear girls complaining about their fathers. "Oh my God, my dad is sooo mean! He won't let me go to the movies with my boyfriend because he doesn't _like _boys. Oh my God, you'd think that he could lighten up, just a little!" Yeah, comments like those piss me off. Their dads cared enough about them to make sure the guy they went out with was perfect. They cared if they went to the movies with some guy and worried if "things" could happen between the two. Those dads cared, so why couldn't mine? Why couldn't mine?

I tore my eyes away from the family, not able to stand looking at them so happy and...well, the only word for it was complete. So happy and complete. Complete. I sighed, and let my eyes drift back to the priest guy. Mr. Priest was holding up this goblet-like thing and saying, "Do this in memory of me."

"In memory of who?" I hissed to Ponyboy, confused. "Of Mr. Priest? He's not dead, though."

Ponyboy rolled his eyes at me. "Jesus. Do it in memory of Jesus Christ," he whispered.

"Oh. Why? What'd Jesus do?" I returned, curious.

Pony sighed. "The story goes that Jesus is our savior," he explained, "and that he died on a cross for us, ya know, to free us of our sins. And the night before he died, he did everything Fr. Danny just did. It's like...a reenactment, sort of."

"Oh," I said again. I was going to ask why Jesus was our "savior," but I decided I had pestered Ponyboy enough already.

After a while, the ceremony ended. _Thank God, _I prayed silently as we entered. Then, I realized that was kind of an oxymoron, thanking God that mass was over. I smirked to myself, staring at the sky as we left. As I was staring absent-mindedly at the sky, trailing behind Ponyboy, I bumped into someone. Mr. Bad-Jumper Church-Goer turned around suddenly, snarling, "Watch it!"

"You watch it!" I snapped, knowing full well that it was my fault.

He stared at me for a second, and then his face brightened, as if a light-bulb had just gone off in his head. "You're that chick," he stated slowly. "The chick with the stick."

I gave him a funny look. "The chick with the stick?" I asked, slightly disturbed. "God, you suck at names. And besides, I am offended by the term 'chick.' Do I really look like a fluffy little yellow baby bird that'll grow up, get it's head chopped off, and end up on someone's dinner plate to you?"

He blinked, probably not expecting this kind of reply. "Um, no," he answered, looking awkward.

"Joey!" A voice called as Miss Red Dress waltzed up, carrying her future spoiled brat.

She shot me a disgusted glare. "Joey," she said haughtily, "we're leaving. And I'd perfer you didn't talk to girls like--." her eyes gave me a once-over, "--like _her._"

"Oh, don't worry," I said, sweetly. "I'm leaving! Hope you have a nice day, and that you got what Mr. Priest was trying to tell us. Y'know, about loving our enemies? Well, I know I got something out of it. Bye now!" I turned and almost ran into Pony who was hovering right behind me.

"Boo," I chirped and recieved a funny stare from him. "C'mon, let's go!"

"I'm never going to church again," I announced as I entered the Curtis household.

No one paid any attention to me, save Johnny who gave a small smile. Which made me smile in return. He was sitting up on the couch, wearing jeans and a T-shirt that looked as if they belonged to Pony. They probably did. He looked cleaner, but still as if he was hurting. And as if he was scared.

"Hi, Johnny!" I greeted brightly, flashing him a grin. He gave a week smile back.

"Two-Bit," I whined, turning to my brother.

He gave a small groan. "Yes?" he asked.

"Can I have fifty cents?" I asked sweetly, trying my best to give him an innocent smile.

"What for?" he asked, eyeing me.

"'Cause you love me," I replied, giving him one of my begging faces.

He blinked at me. "Who said that?" he joked.

I gave him my best insulted look. "That's not very nice," I pouted, sticking my tongue out at him.

He flashed me one of his famous grins, but I could tell his heart wasn't in it. He was probably still worried about Johnny. The subject of fifty cents dropped as I announed I was going to Mike's. Two-Bit just nodded, Dally ignored me, Pony muttered a "bye," and Johnny gave a little wave.k

I turned back as I had my hand on the door knob. "Hey, Pony," I said, "why was Jesus our savior?"

He sighed. "'Cause he's the son of God," he answered.

"Wait--," I was confused, "how could God have sex with anyone? He's God!"

"He didn't," Pony exclaimed, slightly exasperated. "Jesus' mother was a virgin."

"But, but," I spluttered. "But, how is that possible?"

"It's God. He can do anything!"

I rolled my eyes, bewildered, and stepped outside.

I realized as I wandered around the streets that it was probably stupid to be walking alone after what happened to Johnny. But I wasn't going to let fear change my life, and I didn't really want to walk with anyone. And, if I wanted to walk alone, then by God, I was going to walk alone. Besides, Socs didn't scare me. Much. Okay, they did, but I wasn't going to admit it to anyone, especially not myself.

As it turns out, I ran into no one on my way to Mike's. I knocked on the door instead of using the window like I did last time. Jeff, Mike's older brother, swung open the door. He looked a lot like Mike, only bigger. Well, I guess that's what happens when you're the older one. Jeff's a pretty cool guy, only most people don't know that. He's got a rep for fighting, but that's just 'cause everyone's jelous of him. I think. Anyway, Jeff's like one of my extra brothers, too, but he's more like the one that moved away. Ya know, like we're not as close as I am with the gang, but still. I grew up with him too.

"Hola, Ernie," I said brightly.

"Hey, Fredrika," he replied, opening the door wider so I could step in. I'm not sure when we started these nicknames, but they've been around as long as I can remember, and they never cease to amuse me. Mike had one too. Harriett. Briefly, I wondered if that was a girl's name, but it didn't matter. Like I said, it's been around as long as I can remember.

"'Ey, Mike, Kat's here!" Jeff yelled down the hall.

"Tell her to go away!" Mike called back in a groan. "I wanna sleep!"  
"He says, 'go away,'" Jeff relayed.

"I ain't goin' nowheres!" I informed him, skipping off down the hall to Mike's room. He was laying in his bed, the covers thrown over his head.

"Harriett," I whined, jumping on him. "Get up!"

"Ahh," he screamed in mock-fear. "Gerroff me! I wanna sleep!"

I tickled him even though I knew it was useless. Mike was one of the few guys I knew who wasn't ticklish. And that wasn't fun, but I did get his attention. He shoved the sheets off his head to glare at me, and then poked me right under my armpits in the place he had dubbed my spaz spot. It was appropriately named. As expected, I jumped away, flinching and shreiking, but laughing. I, unlike Mike, am very ticklish. As a result of me jumping away, I fell off the bed.

"Ow!" I complained, even though it didn't really hurt. Mike was laughing hysterically. "It's not funny!" I protested, trying to hold back giggles myself.

"Yes, it is!" he countered. "It's goddamn halarious!" I laughed along with him because I knew it really was funny.

Mike swung his legs out of the bed and stood, giving me an angry glare. "How is it that you always know how to wake me up?" he demanded.

"I'm just good like that," I cried, twirling around in a circle and almost falling again.

Mike smiled and shook his head. "You're insane," he informed me.

"But you wouldn't love me any other way!" I exclaimed. He didn't agree, but I knew that's how he felt.

"Hey, do you have a T-shirt I can borrow?" I asked, glancing down at my clothes and realizing I was still wearing that hideous white blouse. I felt like one of those Catholic school girls with a uniform. Ew. Mike tossed me a white shirt with Elvis written across it in black. I grinned my thanks and tugged it on. I'm not embarrassed changing in front of Mike, or Two-Bit, or the rest of the guys, and, likewise, I didn't mind watching them change. I had grown up with them. They were all like my brothers. Maybe I'd be a little embarrassed with Jeff. Like I said, he was like the brother that moved out and I wasn't as close to him as I used to be.

He pulled on a pair of jeans over his boxers and slipped a black T-shirt over his head while I chattered merrily on about how I had actually gone to church that day. I mentioned that I saw the guy who had tried to jump us yesterday.

"And then that little Miss Red Dress walked up and--,"

"Kat," Mike interrupted, turning to look at me, "what's wrong?"  
I gave him a funny look. "Nothing's wrong," I lied. Even though I'm a good lier, Mike didn't look convinced.

He just shrugged, though. "Whatever."

We went for a walk. The days were still warm, and I was sweating. Not that that's unusal. Me sweating, I mean. I sweat a lot, especially in this heat. We found ourselves at the park, sitting on the edge of the fountain. I had kicked off my shoes and rolled my jeans up to my knees in order to stick my feet in the fountain. The water was warm, but it felt good. Mike and I sat in silence for a little while before he turned to me. "Seriously, Kat, what's up?"

"Nothing," I insisted. I didn't want him to worry about me, and besides, I'd really rather not talk about it. "Why does something haffta be wrong?" I added.

"Because I know you," Mike replied, "and I _know _something's wrong. I want cha to tell me."

I sighed. "Johnny," I started before breaking off. "Johnny," I picked up again, "he got jumped yesterday." There, I had said it. It was out in the open. I buried my head in my hands, trying to block out that picture. I felt Mike wrap an arm around my shoulders.

I looked up at him. "And don't you dare tell me everything's gonna be okay," I snapped irritably, "'cause how the hell do you know? _You _didn't see him."

"I wasn't gonna," Mike said gently. Normally, he would've snapped right back, but I guess he could see how miserable I was and held his tongue.

"Oh God, Mike," I moaned. "Why'd it haffta be Johnny? Why him? He already gets enough crap at home, he don't have any money, he never did nuthin' to them, so why him? It's not fair!"

"Life ain't fair, Kat," Mike informed me.

"No duh," I replied, "but don't you think it could be just a little? I'm sick of it, Mike. Sick of it."

"I know," he said. "I am too."

He stayed there in silence for a while, before leaving. Mike walked me home. I guess he was worried about me getting jumped. He didn't have to though. We met no one, and I can handle myself pretty well. We walked in silence, which was fine by me. I turned the knob and swung the door to my house open. It was time to bury the hatchet.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Okay, finally Chapter 7 is here (after a bunch of arguements between Kat and myself...)! Hope y'all like. Hahaha, my fifth grade Social Studies teacher did this for us. It was really funny. Also, in previous chapters, everything Kat does at church, I pretty much do too. Also, it's Catholic because I honestly have no idea what goes on in other churhces. :) Sorry if you were bothered by that...anywho, onwards.**

**Disclaimer: Don't own nothin' (You'd think with my A in honors English I'd have better grammar skills...lol)**

When the door swung open, no one was standing in the hallway. I decided to try the kitchen. Sure enough, as I cracked the door open, I saw my mother bent over the table, dressed in her barmaid's uniform. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a bun and I thought, for the first time since I was maybe five, that Mom was a really pretty woman. I stepped in and closed the door, just loud enough for her to hear. She turned, saw me, folded her arms, and waited.

"Hey, Mom," I greeted tentatively.

She arched one eyebrow. I finally figured out where Two-Bit got that gene from. "That all you want to say to me?" she inquired.

What did she want me to say? That I was sorry she was a bitch? I blinked, stunned for a moment. "What am I supposed to say?" I asked, confused.

"How about an apology?" she suggested, that perfect eyebrow of hers still arched.

My temper flared. So it was immediately all my fault. She had nothing to be sorry for? "No!" I snapped. "I will not. Not until you admit you were wrong too."

"I wasn't wrong," the woman declared. "I was being a good parent."

"Define 'good,'" I replied harshly.

Her mouth gaped open. I guess she hadn't expected that. What scared me most was that I meant it. Every word. And she knew it too.

"Kaitlyn Louise," she started, her voice shaking, but I had already whirled around and stormed out. So much for burying the hatchet. I was mad again. This week just wasn't going my way.

I stood right outside our front door, fuming. Why am _I _always the one who storms off to find some other place to sleep? This was just as much my house as it was hers. In a way. I think. Well, she was the one paying for it, but didn't the law say she _had _to provide me with a place to live? I wrenched the door open, stomped to my room, and slammed the door shut behind me. I twisted the lock and flopped down onto my bed. Unfortunately, I didn't land on my bed. Instead, I landed on a person.

I yelped, surprised, and leapt away. The person in the bed sat up suddenly and mumbled, "Wazzgoneon?"

"Two-Bit, you ass!" I snapped, laughing. Somehow, he always managed that, even without meaning to.

He blinked at me. "Must you be so loud?" he asked bitterly.

"Uh, yeah, when you unexpectedly find your brother sleeping in your bed, you're gonna be loud," I replied, sitting on the edge. "So who's party were you at?" I asked, just to say something.

"Shepard," he muttered in return. I grinned. "Are you ever gonna learn?" He stared at me, then mumbled something about letting him sleep.

I rolled my eyes. "Once you get out of my room," I replied, smiling sweetly. He glared at me but stood and walked out of the room, after fumbling with the lock for a few seconds. Well it was his own fault he was hungover. I had little sympathy for him.

Once the door was shut behind Two-Bit, I fell back onto my bed and stared at the posters on my boring white walls. I had wanted to paint them black with lime green streaks, but Mom wouldn't allow it. It is technically _her _house. I sighed. My anger had subsided to the back of my mind, thanks to my wonderful big brother, but it was still there, lurking in the back of my mind.

As I thought it over, I wondered if I was really in the wrong? I began to second guess myself. Was I just some spoiled little bitch who couldn't appreciate the good things in her life? God, I hoped not. But, what else could I have done to make Mom hate me so much? Not a lot, I reasoned. We _are _complete opposites...could that be it?

_You are exactly like your father! _The words echoed in my heads. Oh yeah. That's why. Well, hey, I couldn't help it if I had his genes. Wasn't that more her fault then mine? Like she'd ever see it like that.

My alarm didn't blare this morning, as the clock was broken. I was woken up on time though, thanks to Two-Bit bursting into my room, singing at the top of his lungs.

"What the hell are you singing?" I snapped grumpily at him.

He shrugged. "Whatever I can make up," he answered. "Now you better be ready or I'm leavin' for school without cha."

I rolled my eyes, but got up. I knew he would leave whenever he wanted. He simply didn't care if he was late or not. On the other hand, Steve, Pony, Johnny and I usually carpooled with him, therefor he did have to be on time--for me and Ponyboy. Darry wouldn't be too happy if Pony got in trouble for being late and Two-Bit knew I'd be pissed if I was late. He was too easy-going to risk an argument about being late.

I took a quick shower, threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and clomped to the kitchen for some breakfast. I grabbed a slice of leftover pizza, being to lazy to fix myself anything else. I finished the cold pizza, cleaned my teeth, ran a brush through my hair, and stumbled out the door right behind Two-Bit, tennis shoes in hand. "Ha!" I cheered. "I'm on time!" My brother simply rolled his eyes at me, grinning that grin of his. Everyone got a ride with us today--except Johnny. He had decided that maybe he'd go to school tomorrow, but he wasn't sure. According to Dally, at least. I bet Dally was the one who had talked him into staying away. Not that it would take much. Johnny was a nervous wreck, and, even though he was better then yesterday, he was still hurting.

I walked into first period--American History--right before the bell rang. I dropped my bad and hoisted myself onto the desk, listening to the snippets of conversations that surrounded me. Mostly pointless things, like football games, cheer leading, relationship issues, ect. This class wasn't honors, but it wasn't the "stupid" class, either. There was a mix of Socs, Greasers, and middle class kids in this class, as in all my classes. Except English. I suck at English.

"Miss Matthews, get off your desk and into your chair," Mrs. Morris snapped as she waltzed into the classroom a few seconds after the bell rang. Same as always.

"Sorry Mrs. M," I said, falling into my chair.

Mrs. Morris rolled her eyes because she knew I didn't mean it. It was just routine. She pulled out her student list and began calling role.

"Here!" called Henry Brown.

"Cade?" she called out. Mrs. M always went by our last names. When no one answered, she called, "Cade?" again. Sometimes Johnny was so quiet she didn't hear him. Oh yeah, this was my cue.

"He's not here, Mrs. M," I informed her. She nodded, content with that. She wasn't going to press me for anything Mrs. M can be pretty cool. She's the only teacher that let's me get away with calling her by her first initial.

"Bet he's in jail," the Soc, Patrick Thompson, who sits behind me hissed loud enough for everyone to hear. The Socs and a few middle classers guffawed, even though it was not in the least bit funny. Even if it hadn't been Johnny, it still wouldn't have been funny.

I whipped around in my seat, opening my mouth to give Thompson a piece of my mind, but Mrs. M intervened before I could say anything.

"Mr. Thompson, please refrain from comments such as those," she reprimanded, "and Miss Matthews, turn around. It's usually better to just ignore these things."

Grudgingly, I turned back to the front of the room. God, one of these days I was just gonna hit Patrick Thompson. He mad me madder then hell, second in his skill only to my mother.

"Alright, class," Mrs. Morris said, once the impending danger of chaos in her classroom had died, "on Friday we left off talking about Paul Revere. Anyone remember who he was?"

"That guy who freaked out when the British were coming and took off on his horse screaming his head off?" I called out.

Mrs. M sighed and smiled. "Basically, yes," she answered. She went on to explain about how Paul had an accomplice who went to help by land. But first, he had to sneak past the British, so he pretended to be drunk. As Mrs. M was staggering around the front of the room, reenacting it for us, Patrick Thompson leaned forward and whispered in my ear, "Heard that's how your brother acts. And your dad." I twisted around and slammed a fist into his face.

**Alrighty, so there it was! Hope y'all liked:) REVIEW PLEASE!!!**


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